Explanations of the Unknown
by Emerald Kitten
Summary: Formally titled Season 4 Caryl Drabbles. Series of drabbles exploring Carol and Daryl moments from season 4. Chapter 2: The entire ride back to the prison Daryl had stared intently at the tiny rock in his hand like it held the secrets of the universe inside its solid exterior.
1. Chapter 1

**Feelings Got You Hurt.**

Written in response to S4E1 Comment from Carol "Just so you know, I liked you first".

He'd learnt a long time ago to hide his feelings. Living in a house where the slightest wrong move would be met with the sharp lashing of a belt or the painful cut of glass across exposed skin caused you to keep your shit locked down pretty tight. Even as he'd grown older the younger Dixon never shook the compulsion to keep his true feelings hidden from others. So Daryl grew into a man that never shared his feelings. It was the only protection he had against a harsh and unrelenting world. He became an enigma to those who met him. Whether the introduction came before the world went to shit or afterwards Daryl always played his feelings close to the vest. Everything except anger that is.

It didn't matter if you got angry. He'd learnt that lesson early on in his life. Hell, in his family anger was the only emotion recognised as being of any importance. So he never hid his anger from anyone. He never tried to camouflage his short temper. It was the only thing about him his father approved of. Everything else that wasn't approved of his old man had tried to beat out of him with that worn leather belt that he wore always slung low around his hips. His old man would never take the damned thing off. The head of the Dixon clan wanted it handy whenever he decided that dispensing discipline was necessary. And according to Dixon Senior disciple had been needed constantly. It had gotten so bad when Daryl was a kid that the mere slight of the belt buckle was enough to send the youngest Dixon hightailing it for the neighbouring forest and clamouring for safety.

Daryl had learnt at young age that having feelings translated into getting hurt. It hurt more than he even knew possible when his mom died in the fire that decimated their home. He had loved her like a son ought to love his momma, that was the problem. Daryl let himself feel something other than anger and he paid the price for it when his mother was snatched away by the fire that consumed her. That day when he rounded the corner and saw his house burning to the ground was the day little Daryl Dixon learnt that loving someone got you hurt. Showing people that you loved them always ended in pain. The people you trusted always left you hanging high and dry. Whether it was a father who hit you to cover up his own self-loathing or it was a mother too drunk to realize the dangers of smoking in bed, you couldn't count on anyone not to hurt you in this life.

His father's hands had hurt him physically. His mother's death had scarred him emotionally.

If you let people in, if you let yourself feel anything towards them other than anger you ran the risk of those people abandoning you one day. He knew his mother never meant to leave him like she did but that didn't make the pain of her death any less bearable. It was bad enough what his father did to him when he laid into Daryl's back with that belt. It hurt that Merle had cleared out when he was a kid and left him alone to grow up in the shadow of a monster. The people of your family weren't supposed to hurt you like that.

Daryl did everything he could to shut down. The people who were supposed to care about him most in the world always ended up hurting him in one way or another.

Showing people your emotions made you vulnerable. But no matter how hard Daryl tried to ignore his feelings and to let his emotions lay dormant and unused it never worked out. Try as he might he couldn't switch off the feelings that insisted on clouding his judgement and screaming within his mind. But if he couldn't switch them off that didn't mean he couldn't try and bury those pesky emotions down deep enough so that no-one would be able to see them.

Daryl learnt at a young age how to hide his emotions from the rest of the world.

Carol had made that crack the other day about her liking him first but that showed what she knew. He wasn't an idiot. He could read between the lines better than most. His shitty upbringing finally benefited him somehow. The ability to sense when a fresh attack was being plotted by his father also leant Daryl the ability to read other people's body language and tells. He became very apt at hearing what people didn't say just as well as what they did say.

When Carol said she liked him first he knew she was trying to make him feel better about the constant attention the new people were throwing his way. After a lifetime of being made to feel like he was lower than dog shit it was unnerving to have so many people actually give a damn about him. It made Daryl blush to think that Carol had also meant that she liked him - really _liked_ him - like he was worth a damn. Daryl knew that was what she was really telling him with her teasing that morning. She thought he was a man of honour. The rest of the jokers were suffering a bout of hero worship but not Carol. She genuinely cared for Daryl and he knew it. She wasn't damaged like he was. She didn't try and deny that fact that she felt something for him that ran deeper than the connection she had with the other members of their family.

He knew about her feelings for him. He'd have to be a fool not to. He had known for some time that there was something special between them. Something that had grown gradually since they first started interacting with one another. Just because he tried to deny he had emotions didn't mean he wasn't able to recognise what he felt for her.

Daryl had liked Carol first. She may have thought she held the exclusive rights to that claim but she'd be wrong. Daryl had strong feelings for her but there was no way on Earth he was telling her that fact. Hell, he knew he was in love with her despite the fact he wanted nothing to do with emotions. The moment he'd watched her drive that pickaxe into Ed's chewed off face Daryl knew there was more to her than what others saw. To the other members of their group she had been regarded as a mother and wife; nothing more. But Daryl saw past the frumpy clothing and meek disposition. When she ploughed that pick into Ed's head over and over again he knew she had a strength the others didn't even begin to understand. To survive the abuse her bastard of a husband had dished out she had to have been strong. From that moment on they had been drawn together; two damaged souls gravitating towards each other bounding over a shared past of pain, suffering and neglect. Over the time the group had been together the bond they shared grew and strengthened into something more, solidifying their connection after the shattering loss of Sophia.

His secret would go with him the grave because Daryl Dixon wouldn't allow himself to show his true feelings to anyone. Not even her. Feelings got you hurt.

When Carol had lost Sophia she had almost shut down completely. It had pained Daryl to watch her go through that experience. Her heart had been ripped clear from her chest the day her daughter came stumbling out of the barn. Watching Carol suffer as she did only strengthened Daryl's resolve on the matter of feelings.

Feelings got you hurt.

Having feelings led to you getting beaten to within an inch of your life and left on the kitchen floor struggling for every breath because you'd loved your mother so much you cried at her death.

Feelings in the new world got you killed.

Emotions were a distraction that Daryl couldn't afford. Simple as that. It wasn't for himself that he was concerned though. If Carol knew how he felt about her it would place her entire existence in jeopardy. He'd seen the risks Maggie and Glenn would take, the lengths they'd go to when the other was threatened. All in the name of love. He couldn't do that. Glenn had told Daryl once that he cared about what happened to Maggie more than he cared about himself. That was how the hunter felt about the strong woman who had captured his attention all those months ago at the quarry.

Daryl would rather watch Carol flourish from afar than risk losing her just to let her know how he felt. He loved her enough to _not_ be that selfish. He was not going to endanger the most important person he had left in his life with some half-baked romantic notion like confessing his feelings to her so they could live happily ever after.

This wasn't a fairy tale and there sure as shit weren't no happy endings for anyone anymore.

Feelings led to distractions.

Distractions got you killed.

Carol knowing that Daryl was in love with her was a distraction she didn't need. If she understood the depths of his emotions it would get her killed eventually. It might not happen today. It might not happen tomorrow but Daryl was certain it would happen eventually. She would risk her own safety one day to ensure Daryl's survival in a life or death situation.

He couldn't deal with that. He refused to be the reason why Carol might get hurt.

A woman like her deserved better. She'd already spent most of her life shackled to some asshole who didn't treat her right; she didn't need to hitch her wagon to another loser. And Daryl knew he was a loser. If he'd been anything like Merle Daryl would have manned up and made a move. But Carol deserved more than he could offer. He couldn't touch her like how she needed to be touched. His father had made sure Daryl found it almost unbearable to accept human. He had gotten better at accepting her touches and signs of affection. He was even able to instigate some physical contact but he knew it would never be enough. He would never be the man she deserved.

The only concession he allowed himself was to keep constant vigil over her. He appointed himself Carol's own personal guardian angel striving to shield her from whatever horrors this world presented.

So Daryl let her believe that she liked him first. He let her believe that he was the man of honour she believed him to be. But Daryl knew the truth and he would take it to his grave.

Daryl Dixon knew feelings got you hurt. Having feelings got you killed. He would keep his own self-imposed secret until the day he died in a bid to save her from the pain this shitty world handed out to you when you admitted you cared for something or someone. The pain of not letting her know that he actually liked her first – that he loved her completely, paled in comparison to the pain he knew he'd feel if she was ever snatched away from him. So he resolved to hide his feelings. It was the only way he could think to keep Carol safe.

Feelings got you hurt. But if Daryl was the only one getting hurt he could deal with that. He always had.

**A/N: Thanks for reading this little piece. The plan I have here is to make this somewhat of a drabble series that explores and expands on the Caryl scenes we see in Season 4. Ideally I'd love to produce something every week to accompany each episode but I already know this won't work. Why won't it work I hear you ask? Well due to the sad fact that we're already up to Ep 3 and I'm still dissecting and deconstruction Ep 1, that's why.**

**In saying that, my idea behind this piece wasn't an overwhelming desire to get into the 'I liked you first' comment. The piece you've just read stemmed from something I read on Tumblr (honestly, I cannot remember who posted it but I would give credit if I only knew) where someone made the point of saying 'why is it always Carol that's chasing after Daryl and he's playing emotional catch-up?' So I thought it would be interesting to explore the idea that Daryl is actually well aware he's in love with Carol but he has no intention on acting on those feelings. **

**Enough from me though. Thank you for reading! I appreciate everyone who takes a chance on one of my offerings.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Written in response to Season 4 Episode 4 'Indifference' storyline when Daryl is examining the piece of jasper he found while out on the vet clinic run.**

Daryl stared at the tiny rock in his hand, watching the colors inside it move and flicker when the rays of sunlight streaming in through the open car door struck it just right. It was rare to find something of beauty in the shitty world they lived in now. The majority of their time was spent concentrating on surviving day-to-day. The little things like beauty got pushed to the wayside in the daily struggle of life verses death. Not that Daryl had ever been much to give a shit about things like that but the end of civilization had changed everyone in ways they never imagined possible.

The rock had held him captive since he sat down in the passenger seat of the beat up mini-van he'd managed to hotwire earlier. There wasn't much else for him to do while Michonne and Tyreese plotted out the best return route to the prison. After his outburst aimed squarely at the former army medic with a drinking problem Daryl didn't feel much like joining in with the conversation going on outside.

No matter which way he turned the rock Daryl found himself transfixed with the colors trapped within the green pebble. It was a mystery to him why he couldn't stop examining the rock in his hands.

He'd been pleased when he'd stumbled upon the rough piece of jasper in the middle of the road earlier that day. He hadn't been lying when he'd said it was for one of the older residents back home. Ever since Rick had taken a step back regarding the day-to-day decisions and running of the prison and its residents someone had needed to step-up and rise to the occasion, at least until their leader got his shit together. The pressure and rigorous of operating the prison was too much for one person to bear. They had all seen what happened to one man who got too much control over others. The Governor was a shining example of what not to aspire to become.

The formation of the council had occurred not long after Rick stepped aside. Daryl hadn't really wanted a position of responsibility but he hadn't gotten much choice in the matter. The people he found out on the road seemed to gravitate towards him and look to him for leadership. Carol had said it was because he'd been the one to save them out there; to offer them a fresh chance at survival. The people he rescued were more willing to listen to orders and directions coming from a man they owed their lives to rather than taking orders from a faceless council they didn't respect.

Carol had told him he needed to learn to live with the love but it was proving to be harder than he ever expected. When you spend your whole life not being worth shit and then people come along and treat you like you're the Goddamn messiah it took some getting used to. So Daryl had taken the time to get to know the new residents of the prison since they wouldn't leave him alone. Once he started looking in on them it was easy to keep track of who needed what and who had special requirements. That fact that he was always leading the groups going out on a run helped him learn what people required. Some requirements were mandatory like medication to stop an asthma attack. Other requirements were simply to make life more liveable at the prison.

Miss Robinson had been searching for something just right to mark her old man's grave with for a while now. The woman wasn't in a position health-wise to be able to get out of the prison herself to find something so she had come to Daryl with the request when he was leaving for the veterinarian school run. There were only so many miscellaneous items strewn about the prison that could be used for a makeshift headstone. Even if she had of re-purposed something, no one wanted the final resting place of their family to be signified with something as impersonal as a cracked plate from the kitchen or a broken-down draw from a desk. People wanted something meaningful to remember their fallen by.

Daryl remembered that Mr Robinson had green eyes when he was still alive. He thought the jasper might serve as a good marker for his daughter – something personal to remember the old man by. With no photos that was the closet thing she'd get to a tangible memory to hold onto.

Everybody deserved to be remembered in this world now. There were so few left of them still breathing that letting the memory fade of even one person was not an option.

The entire ride back to the prison Daryl had stared intently at the tiny rock like it held the secrets of the universe inside its solid exterior. His constant handling of the gem had transformed it from a dusty pebble to a glowing jewel that burned brightly between his fingers but there was something bugging him about the jasper stone being used as a grave marker. It was as if he'd forgotten something important to do with that very subject.

When Michonne announced they were about five miles out from the prison the unasked question nagging at Daryl's unconscious finally hit him full-force like a punch in the gut. He was bringing this tiny rock back to Miss Robinson as a way for her to honour the memory of her father but Daryl had forgotten to honour someone important to him as well.

Merle's grave never got a marker.

After Daryl had ended the creature that used to be his brother he had collapsed on the ground crying and screaming. It had been some time later that he had managed to come to his senses and pick himself up off the cold ground. He wanted to bring his brother back with him to the prison to be laid to rest amongst their growing graveyard but he knew Merle would never want that. Last thing Merle Dixon would want would be to be put to rest for all eternity behind a barbwire fence. Merle had spent his adult life finding ways to avoid spending time behind bars there was no way he would want to be buried there. The younger Dixon had dug Merle's grave near the spot where he had ended the walker that used to be his brother. He'd buried Merle in the shade of a grain silo so it would be easy to find him again. The thought of placing a marker or headstone on Merle's final resting place never came to mind. He'd been too consumed with grief to even think about leaving a memorial like that there. If he had of been in his right mind Daryl would have removed his brother's metal stump and propped that against the silo as a testament to the crazy-ass bastard who was buried below.

Merle Dixon had no flowers decorating his grave or cross signifying his religious beliefs. The only thing Merle even believed in was Merle. It was a philosophy that served him well in life. The moment the older Dixon brother started placing his faith in someone other than himself he became a pawn for a madman to manoeuvre about the chessboard of life.

Merle Dixon was never awarded a grave marker, but as Daryl sat watching his fingers twirl around the stone in his hand he thought that it was about time his brother got something to signify to the world that someone had been lost there. Someone who deserved to be remembered there.

There weren't many markers that you could re-purpose as a headstone but Daryl did have an idea what he could do for Merle. His brother wouldn't want a piece of jasper like Daryl was clutching in his hand right now. If he'd still been alive Merle would have thrown the stone in Daryl's face and called him a pussy for pandering to other people's requests.

His brother didn't need a cross nor did he need flowers growing over his remains. The man had been so surly that he'd probably poison any plant that even dared to attempt sprouting over him. That didn't leave a lot of options. The question nagged at Daryl as he watched the broken towers of the prison come closer with each passing mile.

Maybe Daryl could find a bottle of whiskey and drink that over his brother's grave. They could share one last drink together. The more Daryl thought about the idea the more fitting it seemed. Merle had loved a strong drink when he'd been alive. The empty bottle would serve as Merle's marker.

Daryl's snapped his hand shut, engulfing the green stone in the safety of his palm. His mind was made up. Once they'd gotten back to the prison and got the people there on the mend he was going take a trip to visit his brother one final time.

Merle deserved a marker for his grave just as much as Mr Robinson did. Everyone deserved to be remembered in this world now.

**A/N: Ok this one just sort of popped into my head today. I've read a lot of theories that Daryl picked up the jasper as a gift for Carol but I don't think that's true (as sweet as that thought would be though). Daryl had really stepped up and taken an interest in the other inhabitants of the prison this season. He knows people, talks with more people. I think the stone really is a grave marker for a faceless character. Daryl kept staring at the rock so intently that I started thinking that maybe the stone reminded him that Merle didn't have a grave marker of his own. I love the idea that Merle's buried at the prison but I just don't think he's there. Merle Dixon stuck forever in the big house? Not gonna happen. Thanks for reading.**


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